Garages of the Hounds of Hell

One of my photo fans asked why garages? Many reasons – they present a Toronto that isn’t skyline or high-rise. It’s almost like stepping into a small town, a different time era when I walk along some of the lane ways in the east end. The structures are almost always wooden and frequently in a state of disrepair.


snow ball alley

I like the rusted edge of metal doors, the flaking paint of wooden doors lucky enough to get painted, the various shades wood turns as it gets wet, frozen, bleached by the sun, love roofs that sag, some that have collapsed in on the garage. This isn’t the Toronto of well kept lawns and gardens. The laneways are public but private at the same time.


my interest is flagging

One can tell how much use the lane end of a garage gets by the amount litter or weeds or even vine growth there is around the door. If there is a door. Sometimes the ‘garage’ is actually a little house, storage shed in the back yard with door onto the alley. I do get see open garage doors often enough but what’s inside isn’t of great interest to me.


s’no picnic

Garages also take me back to my youth in Cape Breton. Much of my first sexual playing around took place with other boys in garages. Bad lighting, dusty and furtive but protected from adult eyes. Pulling pants down and touching one another. Never more than that though. Did the same with some girls too, but it wasn’t the same.



Jake and I had climbed a fence

we had stolen peaches

she set the hounds on us

as we scampered away

the hounds of hell – she barked




on the prowl

for boys like you

who were satan’s imps

the hounds would sniff around

our backyards

they would be on the look out for us

pants full of peaches

that we let tumble out

in an abandoned garage

Jake naked to the knees

the gold peaches at his feet

I dropped mine

sunlight on a ripple of broken mirror

glanced over our bodies

I gasped

he had hair there

I had an peach leaf

we pulled up our jeans

laughed ate a peach

I took some home

the hounds of hell took the scent

sniffed me out



they found my dreams under my bed

they shook twitched slobbered

left their sticky white drool

thin crusty salty

I woke with that stinging shudder

where the peach leaf  grazed me

a warm smear on my belly

I was scared unsure

I asked Jake

he laughed and told me to stop kidding him

made me show him the bite marks

but there were none

the hounds of hell don’t have teeth

peach stealing sin

wasn’t serious enough for them

to draw more than the white blood

sleep became a time of fear

my bed an invitation to those




I would lie awake

watch the light of cars cross my ceiling

so the hounds wouldn’t catch me asleep

so I could catch them before

they drew my evil white blood again

before they drained me of my dreams


June 2018 TBA – attending – Capturing Fire – Washington DC



Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr – lots of garage pics


One thought on “Garages of the Hounds of Hell

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